I was supposed to go to the beach today. One would think that planning a beach day in early September would be a perfectly normal and festive way to mark the passing of the lazy days of the last gasps of summer. One would not live in Florida.
The weather report for today shows thunderstorms on the way to the beach. It shows thunderstorms early enough to limit my time at the beach to about 2 hours (by the way- it is about 100 miles to the beach I planned to visit.) It shows thunderstorms all the way home once the lightning shoos me off the beach. Weather.com mentions “torrential.” I decided this morning that, as much as I wanted to go, discretion is the better part of valor.
Instead of experiencing the vibrant, refreshing smell of salt and gentle, cool water lapping over my skin during my monthly retreat day, I am in my Florida room at home reading, praying, and writing. Instead of a lovely walk through the sand for exercise and contemplation, I will be walking my steps across my living room floor in the air conditioning. A retreat day is a retreat day, so I am not complaining. I am simply observing that summer in Florida is a long way from being done. There are no “lazy days of the last gasps of summer” in the foreseeable future. Florida is dramatic when it comes to summer. There is no lingering death scene. In fact, sometimes I wonder if there is any death at all- it feels interminable. If it is going to die, it will flare out in a spectacular spontaneous combustion. Here’s hoping it doesn’t take all of us with it.
Another remnant of the summer bellows outside my bedroom window each night I’ve said it before, and I will say it again- nature is noisy. The summer is mating season for alligators. Our house backs up onto a wetland conservation zone. It is common for me to struggle to fall asleep amidst the music of horny alligators looking for a hook-up. They say that a male alligator sounds like a motorcycle starting. With some imagination, I guess that is the case. I was thinking more of those annoying vuvuzela horns people blow at soccer games- if the person blowing the horn was the Jolly Green Giant. I guess that makes sense. Alligators are the reptile version of Green Giants. And I bet they pretty jolly or at least will be if some sexy alligator hottie comes calling in response to that obnoxious mating call.
I should note that vuvuzelas make noise that can exceed 120 decibels, significantly exceeding the threshold for permanent hearing loss. Many stadiums have banned their use for exactly that reason. Someone should tell the alligators.
I have a friend who insists that alligators cannot climb simply because she doesn’t want to entertain the possibility. They empirically CAN climb but she prefers to push that fact of nature out of her brain. It is far more comfortable to live in Florida if you don’t think too hard about the many ways an alligator could secure access to your living space. Alligators are not usually running around (and they can run!) trying to enter a human house or even garage, but they do not understand the concept of property lines. It is not uncommon to see them in yards or golf courses within subdivisions. People say that if you have a glass of water in Florida, there WILL be an alligator trying to get into it. If they stayed in the glass of water, we could all live in peace. However, they often go in search of other bodies of water… or in search of a frisky female.
When we first moved to Florida, I tried to adopt the attitude of denial that my friend employs to ignore the idea that some of my neighbors might have scales. In fact, I heard some suspiciously alligator-like noise but told myself it was some kind of bird or frog. Truthfully, a bird or a frog big enough to make the kind of noise I was hearing would be at least as frightening as an alligator. It would be a freak of nature. We had a worker out to close our soffits (to prevent squirrels from getting into our attic, not alligators- I am not that paranoid.) He mentioned that he was hearing a bull alligator behind the house as he worked. I told him I thought it was a bullfrog. He looked at me like I was demented but did not debate with me. I had not paid him yet.
However, I have since seen an alligator in the backyard. During COVID, Max was looking out the window and said to me, “Is that an alligator?” I defaulted to denial and said, “Oh no, it is just a tree root.” Then the tree root moved. It was an alligator, and he was out for a little stroll. We watched as he ambled through eight or so backyards before heading back down into the wetlands. He was a big fella, too. We regularly see juvenile males who have been kicked out of a given body of water because the fully grown males are starting to see them as a threat. The Jolly Green Giant in the backyard was at least seven feet long. That was the day I faced up to the fact that not all my non-human neighbors are fuzzy and cute.
As long as the weather is too volatile to go to the beach…. As long as I am drinking the air I breathe…. As long as I still hear alligators trumpeting on reptile Tinder…. It is still summer. Make it stop, please!
Is it still unrelentingly summer where you are? How can you tell? Please share your perspective by leaving a comment. In the alternative, you can email me at terriretirement@gmail.com.
Have a cool day!
Terri/Dorry 🙂